The Agents
by Saint Mirror
Summary: Smith is wounded. What will Jones and Brown do?


A/N: A sort of continuation of _The Big Wait_. I wanted to explore the dynamic between our own dear Agents the way I see it.

Disclaimer: I in no way own _The Matrix_ or make any profit from the writing of this work of fiction. I mean...if I did own _The Matrix_...well let's just say Smith woulda had a better time of it.

Agent Musings

In a room that could have been the size of a small classroom, there were three chairs. These chairs occupied a room that, usually, was completely devoid of life. The three chairs were arranged in a circle, all facing each other, with enough room between them for someone to walk comfortably through, if they ever had a mind to. For a long time, the chairs stood in perfect stillness, the light that illuminated the room completely steadily until one day the door to the room opened.

At first nothing happened. Then:

"Be careful, Brown. Don't let his head hit the floor." In trooped two Agents. Between them, they carefully carried a third. The third Agent's sunglasses were broken at the edges, and he was unconscious. Various cuts and scratches decorated his face, neck and arms, and bruises covered his neck and traveled down into his suit. His companions carefully arranged the three chairs into a line before stretching Smith's body across them.

Jones and Brown swiftly glanced at each other, sharing thoughts through the earpieces and wishing Smith's thoughts were not the confusing jumble of code they turned into when he lost consciousness.

"We must remove his software in order to assess the damage done to his hardware." Brown's tone held the smallest hint of excitement that Jones acknowledged and ignored. At that moment, they could not allow themselves to become distracted and get carried away. Nonetheless, Jones agreed. "Yes. We must examine the damage done carefully."

Methodically, the two Agents stripped Smith of his suit. "The human was more powerful than expected." The bruises that could be seen peeping above Smith's collarbone continued down his ribcage in ugly colors. Several of the cuts on his abdomen were oozing blood in a way that concerned Jones and Brown, and Smith's breathing was shallow and hurried.

"His injuries are extensive." With that statement, the Agents began to bandage their companion.

Brown walked to the other side of the room and pressed mechanically on a stretch of wall. Silently, that section of wall lifted to reveal a bucket of warm soapy water and a soft white hand towel. While Brown was busy with this task, Jones removed his suit jacket then gathered Smith's nude body in his arms and settled in the chair at the right end with Smith situated across his lap, his head fixed securely in the crook of Jones' neck. Jones smoothed his palm over the warm and bruised ball of Smith's shoulder in a faintly comforting manner as he watched Brown carry the bucket, towel and the clean set of clothes that had also appeared toward them.

"We must conduct ourselves in a cautious manner. We do not want him waking mid-cleaning," Brown commented as he crouched slowly and dipped the towel in the water. "Yes," Jones said, knowing that Brown was only talking to fill the silence left by Smith's healing mind.

Jones watched with growing fascination as Brown's soapy hands stroked the towel slowly up Smith's legs and thighs, remembering the many times Smith had done the same thing for both Brown and him with a gentleness that was always surprising.

Smith was dirtier than expected (the grime quickly turning to mud), and the Agents had to maneuver their leader's limbs carefully (sometimes having to position a leg over Brown's shoulders or Jones would grip his upper thighs firmly while Brown would inspect Smith's crotch for any stray dirt) to ensure the proper handling of his injuries.

Once they were satisfied all his wounds had been located and tended to, the Agents worked him into the fresh clothing and set him as gently as possible on the floor. Minutes passed long and unnaturally quiet as the two watched Smith's breathing deepen and slow. Avidly, Jones watched the edges of Smith's visible wounds knit tightly together while the bruises faded away.

An unknown amount of time (the room being immune to the passage of time and hated by the Agents who stayed there) passed before Smith showed signs of waking. Brown had taken the time to do a disk clean-up and a defragmentation of his hard-drive since he knew Smith will have done the same while he waited for his body to heal. They always waited until they returned to the room before doing any time-consuming internal maintenance.

Jones, Brown noted, had not taken his eyes off Smith the entire time. He wondered what that meant concerning Jones' processors. Did he need an upgrade? Perhaps his entire system needed to be restored? Brown considered sending his inquiry through the open channel of their earpieces but quickly decided against it. Some part of him realized that his question was (by human standards) private, and it would not do if Smith heard the question (which he would) and roused himself prematurely for something that might be nothing.

His decision made, Brown shifted slightly and let the beginnings of confusion slip into the earpiece. To a human, Jones' response would seem instantaneous, but Brown noted the slight hesitation, the resistance Jones' mind put up against Brown's mental intrusion. The Strategic Unit stored that reaction in his file labeled "Misc. Occ." for later uploading into the Agent Mainframe. To Jones he commented, "You have done no maintenance."

The Combat Unit paused in his study of their Command Unit to regard the Strategic Unit with the same impassiveness the rebel humans attributed to them. "No." Brown was not surprised by Jones' easy agreement; after all, it was fact. Only when Jones quickly dismissed him in favor of further perusal of Smith's unconscious form did Brown begin to think that the problem did not lie in the efficiency of Jones' processors. He began to think that the problem was within Jones himself.

Brown now found he had two choices. He could notify the Agent Mainframe and have to hand over Jones for deletion, or he could quietly notify Smith and let him deal with it. A quick review of standard procedure told him that, in cases such as this, he should bypass his Command Unit completely and immediately alert the Mainframe.

There was a reason Smith was the Command Unit, Brown thought mildly while he considered what he should do. Smith, he knew, would have made a decision and been halfway through implementing it by the time he decided on something. Though he was the Strategic Unit, he was not programmed to deal with any situation that did not involve humans and their capture. In fact, he was quite sure he would have been just as suited to office work as he was field work.

His inability to act decided him more than anything. His inner turmoil triggered one of Smith's subroutines, which then established a private link in Brown' earpiece. "Brown," Smith's hard tone (the subroutine couldn't hope to sound exactly like Smith but the similarity could have brought tears to Brown's eyes were he human) sounding in his ear was a great relief to him. "Smith. There seems to be a problem with Jones." There was a slight pause in which Brown took the time to look over Smith's body. He was vaguely pleased to see that Smith was almost done healing.

Smith's subroutine sent a request for all files in "Misc. Occ." that Brown obeyed immediately. The few hours he and Jones spent without the calming influence of their Command Unit felt to him like an eternity of indecision, and now that Smith was in control once more, Brown felt as though everything would be put to rights.

"Jones' actions do appear strange," Smith's subroutine commented ambiguously. "Procedure," Brown dictated through the private link while keeping an eye on Jones, "states that any Agent whose actions become - to use the human phrase - out of character is to be sent immediately to the Agent Mainframe where it will be determined if the Agent needs further maintenance or deletion." Brown waited while the subroutine (always two point three five seconds slower than the primary programming - a time without end to an Agent) processed his comment. Finally the subroutine answered.

"After consultation with primary programming, it has been determined that Combat Unit Jones will be shut down pending full systems check. Any attempt by Jones to hinder this will result in immediate override." The reedy quality of the subroutine's voice told Brown that the message had been sent to him, Jones and maybe even the Agent Mainframe. If Brown were human, he might have felt a stab of guilt assail him at this point. As it was, when he looked at Jones' impassive face, all he felt was a small sense of relief.

"The subroutine will have to awaken Smith." Though Jones sounded as though he was remarking on the weather, Brown knew the Combat Unit was really asking (through the earpieces and aloud) what would happen next. Brown could not fault him for that since neither of them knew the SOP for situations that required Smith to shut them down. The subroutine answered the hidden question by announcing, "Initialization of primary programming is at sixty-four percent."

As the subroutine continued to inform them of its progress, the Agents couldn't help but notice how the voice (once a vague imitation of Smith's voice) became deeper and more commanding though the slightest hint of pain could be heard in it. Brown then knew that Smith had not been done with his repairs, and he took the time (no more than a millisecond) to wonder whom Smith would be more displeased with: Jones for failing to do proper maintenance or him for not knowing how to handle the situation?

"Gentlemen." Smith's voice was as familiar as the sunglasses on his face. The Command Unit slowly sat up, the stiffness of his movements all the proof the subordinate Agents needed that their leader was not fully repaired. Smith's blue eyes scanned their environment quickly before settling on Jones and, to a lesser extent, Brown. "Initializing shut-down sequence for Combat Unit Jones in five seconds." Jones gave a slight nod of his head in response to Smith's statement and helped Smith stand before taking his place on the floor. Brown also stood and watched with increasing impassivity as Smith continued to shut down Jones.

The task took less than a minute. Brown now found himself, for all intents and purposes, alone with Smith. The steady flow and ebb of Smith's thoughts kept Brown from reacting to the utterly quiet void Jones' shut down mind created.

Brown watched silently as Smith slowly eased himself into the middle chair then sat on his Command Unit's left when Smith seemed comfortable. The silence of the room was almost unbearable, so Brown let himself concentrate totally on Smith's thoughts. How methodical Smith's thoughts are! Brown marveled. How quick and organized his processors must be! An entire thought process and its subsequent thoughts took place in less than a nanosecond in Smith's head.

Even as Brown tried to make sense of the lightning-quick thoughts and images rushing through his leader's internal computer, he felt Smith slowing it down, letting the many codes that comprised (what humans called) his thoughts slow to a speed Brown could easily read. Brown smiled faintly, pleased by this unprecedented access to Smith's files.

Smith sighed and leaned back in his chair, vaguely amused by the waves of pleased contentment Brown was broadcasting through his earpiece. He was always fascinated by how little effort it took to satisfy either of his subordinates. They were quite human in that regard, and he wondered (deep in his mind where Brown could not hope to ever reach) whether that emotionalism was part of Brown and Jones' programming. Did their emotional dependency enable him to lead more effectively?

It was an interesting subject but not one Smith wanted to dedicate any of his processors to at the moment, so he filed the thought away in the folder labeled "Rand. Sub." for later perusal. Using Brown's preoccupation with his surface thoughts (his most harmless and benevolent of thoughts) to his advantage, Smith subtly activated a small subroutine (similar to the one Brown and Jones dealt with earlier) that was little more than one line of code. With some careful adjustments, Smith customized the routine and sent it into Brown's brain via the earpiece. The Strategic Unit never felt it invade him.

Within five seconds (a full three point six seven seconds longer than Smith estimated it should have taken) he had unlimited access to Brown's files and was busy copying everything while Brown amused himself trying to grab hold of Smith's faster surface thoughts. All Brown's files were stored in a folder dubbed, simply, "Brown." After this task was completed, Smith made a show of making some grand, if reluctant, choice. To Brown he intoned somberly, "We will take Jones to the Mainframe for a total Systems Restore."

He was mildly pleased to see Brown agree so readily but dismissed the thought as he and Brown lifted the heavy weight of Jones.

Smith's last though as he and Brown carried Jones out the room was that he was glad _he_ had not been programmed with such emotionalism.

-End-


End file.
